


"Believe"

by Sherlockipoo



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Gore, Insanity, M/M, Violence, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockipoo/pseuds/Sherlockipoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s sweet and loving, but in John’s mind he’s just a twisted illusion,something that brings him comfort and familiarity while his whole world boils over</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Believe"

 

 _“John”_ a whisper brushed against his ear, gently stroking against his arm pulled him from the pill induced haze. Green eyes gazed back at him from across the room a twisted smile mangled across his lips. “John” again that voice that never ceased to draw him back into it’s warm embrace. Arms that hold him close, promising him warmth and love turn twisted and dark. Choking him with their words as he swallows another pill.

 **‘He wasn’t real’** they promised him, **‘all in his head’** they whispered but his voice was louder calling out to him like a sweet siren. Padded cell, four pills a day, but Sherlock never strayed. Caressing John sweetly whispering sweet nothings as he took the man to bed; the doctors worried and feared they might take more ‘necessary precautions’ but Sherlock would not allow it, he poisoned the pills, drank the water and ate the food. John never questioned it, ‘it was for the best’ Sherlock whispered hotly into his ear bringing the poor man out of his daze.

 “ _Tell me John, how does one convince a sane man that he is in fact, insane?_ ” He didn’t know how to answer. Normally he never talked to his illusions, but this one felt more real than any other thought he had, so against the better wishes of whatever jimmy cricket laid upon his shoulder he answered. “Find evidence I suppose?” Sherlock smiled as he ran his fingers through the man’s soft blonde locks. 

“ _Exactly, the case Mr. Watson is on!_ ”. Then in a puff of smoke he faded away, leaving the poor man alone. “Sherlock?!” he called out sliding his legs underhimself so he could stand. He searched his cell for any signs of the taller gent but nothing. “Sherlock?!” he shouted again hoping the man would hear and come to his aid, silence was his only answer. “Sherlock!” he screamed louder. A nearbye nurse was alarmed to hear John shouting at noone in his cell, worried she quickly called over two large male guards to subdue him. “Sher-” the name died on his tongue when they stepped in, backing against the wall he placed his hands up to protect himself. “Calm down John we are not here to hurt you” one of the guards spoke quietly his name was ‘Greg’ John noted from his name tag pinned to his chest. 

 John shook his head fevertivley the men twisted their forms into some backwards illusion, and in the distance he could’ve sworn he heard a wolf howl. “Sherlock...” he called out again hoping this time the man would appear. “There is no Sherlock, John you are just imagining it!” the nurse called out rushing to the men’s aid. “No you’re wrong, he isn’t a fake, I’m not crazy, I’m not!” he searched their eyes but couldn’t bare to stare for too long. A smug grin shined upon one of the older guards faces as he grabbed the poor doctors shoulder. “Of course you are...we are all mad here!” His blood ran cold as he slipped out of the mans grasp and onto the floor running his hands through his hair he tried to ignore the whispers grating against his ears, like nails on a chalk board. 

“Not real,not real. **you’re not real!** ”  
“ _John_ ”  
“ **Not real, not real, not real, notrealnotrealnotrealnotrealnotreal-** ”

_“Believe in me"_

"His condition has worsen doctor, I'm not sure if the medicine is even working at this point."

“Well, I can ask the bureau if they are willing to update his regimen to twice the amount, but I'm afraid that's all we can do for now”

“Isn't there some other way, he's a good man. He has a clean record it's just the **trauma** getting to him.”

They spoke in hushed whispers by his door, the nurse wrung her hands fevertivly while the doctor overlooked his file. John was quiet now, settled in the far right corner in what the guards called "the happy jacket". Which was used when patients got 'too out of hand' for the regular staff to handle, the cloth itched and scratched and the buckles felt uncomfortable in any position the man tried to stay at for more than two minutes. He breathed out a puff of air, the dark circles under his eyes excentuated the deep blue casted upwards toward the door. "Sherlock, what am I doing here?" he thought as he looked around him to see white, white, white. A padded cell for the loons to jump in. 

"I'm not sure, I'll talk to his psych in the morning, but for now I say we should let him rest"

As the lights dimmed and night slowly settled over the halls and rooms John could’ve sworn he heard a kettle whistling in the distance. The hall echoed with the sounds of chatter voices that called out, screamed to be heard. Nights usually went by this it seemed people were at their most insane when night fell. “ _John how do you want your tea?_ ” Sherlock asked sitting across from the man drinking tea quietly waiting for his response.

“P-Pardon?” “ _I said ‘do you want some tea?_ ’ ” He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten his psychiatrist told him if he counted and waited Sherlock would vanish, but when he opened his eyes the man was still there only now the tea was forgotten and he just sat there staring at John not saying a word, not moving a muscle. His vision warped the sound of a chalk board being scratched ripped across his eardrums, the visions continued to torment the man until he heard a voice. 

 

“ ** _Keep your eyes fixed on me_** ” Suddenly there he was at the foot of Saint. Bart’s, all those years ago.  same as always; there he was standing in the middle of the street looking up at the gray skyline at a dark silhouette of a man standing at the edge of the roof. “ ** _Keep your eyes fixed on me, don’t take them off…even for a second_** ” and he didn’t he watched as the man plummet to the pavement below, his brain smashing open like a pumpkin on halloween spilling blood and brain matter across the ground.

All eyes were fixed on the display but not John’s no he was looking right into the man’s eyes. His beautiful eyes that dulled and swirled with color before decaying, “Keep your eyes fixed on me” he repeated to himself as the world around him faded, decaying even the people turning to ash.

Their voices dull and muted.

“ **It’s not real** ” he would hear, “ **He’s not real John!** ” he could hear her, his sister calling out to him begging him to come home to her. Back to where she belonged, but whenever he would reach out, just only a hair away there he was. Pulling him right back begging him to stay with sweet words and a hot tongue, and John would listen and watch his sister fade.  

He promised Sherlock he would keep his eye on him, he promised him that day so long ago. How could he break such a thing to a man he owed his very life too.

“Believe in me John, thats all you have to do, believe in me; and I’ll come home” he felt constricted his shoulders ached as he tried to move them desperate to feel the man, fate can be a cruel mistress they say as he struggled to free himself his shoulders ached, his chest burned as he tried to scream it was only till he collapsed onto the padded floor did he stumble back into reality. Sherlock was gone no voices, no yelling, just him and the padded walls.

“One. two. three. John, John?” the man looked up curious on why a strange woman wearing white was talking to him. Or matter of fact why was he in her office and not back at his cell with Sherlock, “John I want you to tell me about your friend” “Friend?” “yes dear, your friend-Sherlock Holmes?” he pursed his lips as if deep in thought when in reality he just wanted to get away from this strange woman and go back home, back to Sherlock, back to St. Bart's. “John are you still here?” he looked up again his breath caught hot in his throat, Sherlock was there standing right behind her a smile creeped upon his lips as he placed a finger against them, a chill crawled up his spine like a virus.

 

The sound of metal clinking together brushed against his ears, his eyes casted upwards and  the poor man almost forgot how to breath. Knives and keys dangled high above him their strings stretching deep within to the darken abyss that felt like it wanted to swallow him whole. “John… “

His eyes returned to the woman only to see Mrs. Hudson in her place but her voice remained the same “John, tell me what do you see?” she asked quietly his eyes darted around the room in a fit of panic afraid to rest on one thing for too long less it twist and churn into something ungodly.

“I see…things” 

“What kind of things John?”

 “I just…I don’t know?” 

His heart was racing this wasn’t like the other times he had visions no this time it felt too real, far too real for him to even cope “John, now I want you to calm down and tell me-- tell me abo—”  “ _About your wonderland_ ” He froze as the deep baritone voice filtered into his mind, though the vision remained John was at least thankful that Sherlock hadn’t changed, the man smiled reassuringly as he pulled away from the woman her body grew limp in her chair which startled the older man until he realized why, she was attached to strings which stretched into the darkness. “John look at me” Sherlock whispered letting him focus back onto the detective with a pleased grin he plucked a key from the ceiling and dangled it in front of John, “I want you to tell me all you know, about your _wonderland_ ”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, to tell the man he was daft to think about such a thing, but as pulled his lips apart to speak blood rushed forward like a river. He clamped his teeth down and covered his hands over his mouth pressing into his lips trying to not go into shock, his nose flared with each breath as he shut his eyes tight trying to will this nightmare away.

But sherlock was still there and he could taste the copper on his tongue and the feel the wetness in his lap, he felt the bile rise in his throat as he opened his eyes one by one slowly and looked. Teeth mixed with blood laid in his lap and John could feel his stomach lurch his tongue quickly darting over each of his own incisors counting them and finding them all perfectly together, startled but relieved he looked over at the detective for answers, but he man didn’t respond he just stood there and watched, soon blood poured from his nose then from his ears and the man was thrown into a fit of panic trying to stop the bleeding but not knowing where it was coming from, pulling his hands away he tried to wipe away the blood from his nose and ears only to be stopped by a strong grip to both his wrist.

“John, open your mouth.”  A firm head shake he didn’t want to open his mouth again, he didn’t want to see all that blood nor those teeth but he was bleeding from everywhere else and it frightened him. “Open. your. mouth” He demanded again, which brought on other head shake speckles of blood splashing against his cheeks and the furniture behind him, the grip tighten almost painfully he yelped low in his throat keeping his teeth clamped shut.

“Open your mouth, **NOW**!” The detective shouted and he obeyed, the blood ran free now as tears began to fall. Sherlock watched with a pleased smile before releasing the man’s bruised wrists.“ _That’s a good boy, so good John_ ” he cooed softly running his fingers through the mans hair before gripping the back of his hair hard pulling him forward the blood backed up and pooled in his mouth choking him as he fought to breath, “John…you can’t let me go, because I’ll never let you go” he pulled the man into a harsh kiss all teeth and tongue as he swallowed the mans blood, pushing him back into his seat he smiled wiping the blood away with the back of his hand.

“ _My sweet Johnny, your all mine. I’m the white rabbit that lured you away. Your mother can’t save you, your sister can’t save you, not even you… My dear sweet Johnny I have you all to myself_ ” everything felt foggy, his vision darkened as sleep settled in his embrace. He could feel Sherlock against him pulling him up, cradling him in his arms; he could do little to protest he just wanted these nightmares to stop, Sherlock smiled watching John’s brow fret with worry he laid a gentle kiss upon the tuft of his brow watching the lines disappear, even though he felt horrified and trapped in this cruel wonderland, he felt loved at least in sherlocks view. 

 

“ _I love you John_ ” he whispered as he carried the man out of the room and deeper into the twisted abyss; ‘they said it was a fit of rage’, ‘others said the man was beyond repair’ whatever the case maybe it all fell down upon the doctors, they felt he had a chance, the medicine was working and they felt they truly reached him. Then came that young woman with that man who promsed they could cure John of his mental illness, which resulted in a murder charge and a man who was so far gone in his own mind to realize exactly what he had done.

“We have done all we could, I thought we could save him” 

“Don’t worry doctor Stamford, he’ll be well taken care of here”

“I trust you Sebastian he is a troublesome case”

 “Oh not at all, I cater to many of his kind. Don’t worry he’ll be happy here” The pudgy doctor sighed as he adjusted his glasses handing the taller man John’s file as he left the wing to return back to his own, Sebastian smiled as he looked over the case smiling at the picture of John writing “believe” all over the wall in that woman’s blood. “Oh Johnny, where have you been all my life~” he sighed as he slid the case into the small basket in front of the cells door, peeking  in John was happily tied up his room littered with charcoal writing he chuckled as he headed back to his office humming a small merry tune. Sherlock sat there right next to John holding the man’s hand while gently gliding it over a paragraph of words scratched into the padded floor.  
  
“I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, I believe in Sherlock Holmes.

"I believe." 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a small fic i wrote in a friends stream that another friend was kind enough to save. Hope you all enjoy it and critics are welcome <3


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